Uncle’s Trumpet

sharp toothed cold
biting into your lungs
when you step outside
on the way to the funeral
of your last remaining uncle

who you hadn’t seen in years
who once gave you a trumpet
you did not ever play
not even once

whatever happened to it
is it at the bottom of some closet
some river
some trash heap
did you sell it
in a moment of need or frustration
over how much space it took
in a corner of your room
after having trucked it around with you
for a long time swearing
one day you’d learn to play

you know he always liked you
you suspect you were a favorite
you used to shovel his walk
after winter storms
the hair freezing in your nose
sometimes so cold it hurt to breathe
he always had hot chocolate after
played glenn miller while you drank
and fidgeted

where is the trumpet now
that your uncle used to play 
where is the shovel now
you used to use for him
where did your uncle used to play
was he any good
what bands was he in
or did he just play solos in his basement
when no one was there to hear
who was your uncle
who’s going to be your uncle now
or ever again
in this sharp tooth everyday cold
that never seems to lift